


Funeral Wreaths

by Syorein



Series: The SI Set [1]
Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: F/M, I probably need a beta, but I'm such a lazy person I doubt anyone would want to deal with me, genuinely look at my bad writing, it feels like everything I write is the same lmao, like srsly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-30 19:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10170293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syorein/pseuds/Syorein
Summary: Of all things, she dies just to die again.It's honestly pitiful that she can't even play her role correctly even when she only has a few, desperate years to cling onto before it all ends.(Kaya is both Kaya and not. She likes pretty flowers—like she is supposed to—but she is bitter and petty. Something that she's not supposed to be.){Kaya SI}





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno, it was something I wanted to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm writing

* * *

Kaya wakes up seven feet under.

She's choking on dirt and she can't breathe or see in this darkness.

It's suffocating, and she can't even open her damn eyes because dirt is crushing onto her there, too.

The palms of her hands feel grimy and there's enough compressed dirt around her body that she can barely move.

Her chest is almost caving in with all the weight pressed onto her, and there is an insistent pounding sensation in her head.

Everything is silent, and she wants to scream because— _why was she here?_

Her mind was disturbingly blank— _she can't remember anything_ —and the only thing she feels is _panic._

She has no idea why she feels this way until she realizes that she's gradually fading out.

The panic is there, but it isn't.

It's like an underlying feeling as she mechanically tries to do _something—_ in the face of her panic-but-not-panic.

Her mind is screeching, even when she can do nothing in the physical realm.

_help—_

She's flailing _—trying to flail—_ and her heart is going into overdrive.

_can't breathe—_

Everything is rushing to her head, and she feels faint.

_Dirt is clogging up into her throat and eyes—_

Kaya dies.

* * *

She wakes up seven feet under, again.

It's a terrifying feeling.

Darkness is encompassing, and sound never seems to reach her.

Its black and more black, silence on silence, and it creeps her out.

Freaks her out.

She can scarcely breathe—

The same dirt is clogging up her throat, and she wants to _die_.

And preferably _stay_ dead.

She's moving her hands before she can think— _she wants out_ —and her hands are furiously clawing at the dirt.

Her hands move slowly in the compacted dirt—like molasses—and she digs with all the nonexistent strength she has.

A faint metallic smell hits her nose, but she can barely tell the difference between that and the smell of dirt at this point.

She can feel dirt underneath her nails as she goes numb.

At least she doesn't die.

The process of her digging and digging seemed like centuries— _maybe it had been, she doesn't know_ —and she's had enough of collapsing dirt in her face that when she feels the cool breeze of air reach her fingertips, she pushes the rest of her body up with her face.

She clambers out of that hellhole like there was no tomorrow, and resists the urge to kiss the ground like she's seen astronauts do on TV.

There has been enough mouth-to-ground contact for the past while.

Dirt is up her nose and she can see the ripped fingernails she has in the moonlight.

They're bleeding like a faucet, and she can see gross dirt trapped in the crevices of her skin.

It might leave an infection.

But she doesn't really know much about things like that.

She'll just hope for the best, at this point.

Can't really go any lower than seven feet under and dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crying abound

She wanders for what seems like days.

Her feet are aching from walking around barefoot, and her thin frame trembles like a twig when even the slightest of breezes appear.

Forests and burnt civilizations are shortly forgotten as she scanvenges through them in hopes of finding something.

Anything, really.

There's been nothing for— _forever_ —the longest time.

No sign of any people, not even wildlife.

She hasn't seen hide nor hair of anything except herself for weeks on end.

It's like this whole world is desolate, and she's only seeing the broken remainders of the past.

There are wooden doors broken down, carriages shattered on the ground, and holes in walls that she glances into as she passes by them.

She doesn't really have any particular goals as she meanders through another empty village.

Her bare feet dodge a rolling tumbleweed, and she takes in the empty village.

It's pretty much the same as any other one that she's encountered up until this point.

Same old rickety buildings and busted property.

Pursing her lips, she turns toward a strip of road at the edge of the village.

This part is clearly hollowed out, and maybe it might lead to civilization?

That's what she's told herself everytime she saw roads— _that's all she can do now_ —and there isn't really a point of keeping up this pretense.

Gingerly stepping onto the road, she walks until she ends up near a forest.

The trees densely cover everything except the actual path that led into it.

She pulls to a stop in front of the trees and contemplates her decisions.

If she goes in, she might get hurt by wild animals.

There's literally nothing on her, and if something does come, she's pretty much dead.

Deader than she should be.

She gnaws at her lip, maybe she should go in?

Because, if she doesn't, where would she even go?

Going back would make no progress, and what would even be the point of walking all the way here if it was to only go back to her own seven feet hole?

She's lost in her thoughts until a loud crunch disrupts the silence.

Snapping her head to the side — _barely avoiding whiplash_ —she spots a shadowy figure on the path from where she was walking before.

It's a bipedal being— _human has to be human_ —and it has two appendages.

There's some odd shadowing for some parts, but she's sure of what that is.

A person.

Relief floods her body.

There's a person— _she's not alone anymore_ —an actual person!

The figure stops and freezes as they see her, and suddenly the tip of an arrow is pointed directly at her.

She raises her hands cautiously into the air— _a person is here_ —and tries to convey some sort of universal peace sign in an attempt to not get shot.

It sort of works, as the figure heads in her direction and slowly she can see the figure of the person— _it's a man_ —as the arrow trained on her slowly lowers.

The two of them are at a stand off.

He's wearing some weird clothes that look like they're from a mountain hermit, complete with a fur hat and a fishing pole with his bow and arrows.

Light brown eyes pierce into hers as she studies his face.

He doesn't seem to care, since he seems to be studying her too.

His face is rugged, a scar or two near his forehead, and what looks like permanently pinched eyebrows.

She doesn't know how long she's been staring at him until he clears his throat and her eyes snap back to his.

He says— _something_ —and she has some vague idea of what it means, but not exactly.

Her lips feel chapped and dry.

She licks her lips, feeling as though she should say something, but nothing is coming out.

Her mind is frighteningly blank compared to when she was ecstatic about seeing a person before.

She opens her mouth, but her throat clicks as she tries to talk.

No sound is coming out, and she can see the man frown at her.

Why can't she talk?

Opening her mouth again, she tries to make noise or a sound leave but— _anything please she can't be_ —nothing comes out.

She wants to cry.

Because she can't talk, and why is it like this when she just came back?

A sharp feeling runs up her nose— _oh no she's actually going to cry_ —and she tries to blink away the tears that start to water her vision, but to no avail.

The tears flow down like a waterfall and before she knows it, she's crying and gasping for something she doesn't know— _wordswords_ —of.

A small noise escapes her throat— _it sounds like a growl more than anything_ —but she's too busy crying to care.

Because _what the heck_.

She was wandering for days— _no one in sight_ —and then when she finally finds someone, she can't even talk to them.

And in her peripheral vision she can see— _as well as she can see with blurry vision_ —him warily step toward her.

Something like shame claws it's way into her soul, and she hates herself— _like always_ —for letting anyone see her break down like a child.

Her embarrassment only amplifies when she sees the man's booted shoes infront of her.

Looking up, she's hit with the full force of his stare.

He's staring at her as she cries.

The tears only double when she realizes this— _judging he's judging her_ —and her breath quickens.

She's barely getting a hold of herself, and she is _not okay._

Not with this development.

_Not with anything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao it ended up unscrapped


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How tf do people consistently write wtf
> 
> I think I just suck rly
> 
>  
> 
> (Oops did I say an update? It's been like half a year lmao)

The hair at the back of her neck prickles.

It's him. 

_Again._

Kaya tries to release the tension in her shoulders and neck, but it's like a mountain has settled itself into her and she can do nothing to get rid of it.

She feels to urge to somehow get the strange man to _stop_ looking at her. 

Unsettlingly, the way she can just feel his stare on her makes something feel _wrong_ in her.

The stinging feeling of cold on her fingers serves as her only anchor to prevent her from honestly falling off the last step.

But it’s slipping.

Kaya's been stuck with him for the past three days, and she doesn't want to know what he's thinking about her. 

Her body's been on autopilot as she followed him around, but her mind is an empty chasm— _swallowing everything and anything until she's numb and gone_ —and she knows that she needs to get a hold of herself before it's too late. 

The man's been force feeding her through means of sneaky herb teas and rabbit legs— _because she was too out of it after her crying fest to deal with it_ —and a part of her is wrought with guilt about it. 

Another part of her is whispering about how suspicious it all is, but Kaya shoves it down into the furthest reaches of her soul.

She knows what's happening, but doesn't want to admit it. 

If she does she has nothing left. 

So she doesn't. 

Kaya goes on.

She lives.

* * *

Her days are followed by silence.

She cannot find it in herself to do anything to change it.

The man had tried to speak to her, prompted her to speak, but she had not responded.

There is screaming and echoes of existence within her that she is unable to release, and Kaya merely sits there as words float onto her tongue and never leave her mouth.

A part of her is so viscerally broken, and an anxious wave of— _something_ crawls into her and burrows itself into the cracks of her psyche.

There is nothing in her, so there is nothing to convey.

Even when she tries to, nothing comes out.

She has no idea what she can even say to this situation.

It is a ringing of regret that lingers in the tangible air— _is she misinterpreting it?_ —and the silence only serves to amplify it.

He ceases all forms of contact, attempted contact, with her after the first four days.

Kaya does not fault him for it.

The man has not said anything and she will not say anything during all of this and that is the way it will stay.

It is the way it does stay.

* * *

The two of them finally make it to the village. 

Not a single word was spoken on the entire journey, other than when he tried to get her to eat a deer that he shot down in front of her, two days ago.

She had tried, but the only result was her ending up vomiting out her guts after the first bite.

The image of life leaving it’s eyes is her own nightmare fuel.

_Kaya hasn’t eaten—her abdomen vaguely burns like fire—since then._

After that, it was a series of communicated grunts and facial expressions.

He probably realized that it was futile to try anything else at this point. 

The two of them merely existed in a form where she was the subservient stray who trailed after their master for the only reason being companionship.

She has no idea why he’s still allowing her to hover around him as he travels.

Maybe he is lonely as well?

_Hah. She doubts it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck me this is short as hell and more or less I can’t plot
> 
> can u tell


End file.
